


We Three (My Echo, My Shadow And Me)

by chrishish



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Robin Hood, Alternate Universe - World War II, Angst, F/M, Happily Ever After, Reincarnation, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 11:03:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1426150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrishish/pseuds/chrishish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Through lifetimes of tragedy and loss, their souls were connected, destined to find each other in the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Three (My Echo, My Shadow And Me)

_“At this moment, there are 6,470,818,671 people in the world. Some are running scared. Some are coming home. Some tell lies to make it through the day. Others are just now facing the truth. Some are evil men, that war with good. And some are good, struggling with evil. 6 billion people in the world. 6 billion souls. And sometimes, all you need is one.”  
\- One Tree Hill_

1\. 79 A.D., Pompeii

The city was at its peak, thriving with life. In the bustling forum, a young girl waited upon Theodora and Octavius, brother and sister from a nearby city, as they explored the shops.

“I don’t understand why Mother insists on vacationing in Pompeii,” Theodora said. “We have perfectly adequate shops and entertainment at home.”

“Mother enjoys the change of scenery. As do I.”

Theodora rolled her eyes. “You enjoy the new selection of women you can charm.”

“That, I do. Slave, what is your name?”

“Flavia, sir,” the young blonde girl stammered, as if alarmed at being addressed directly.

Octavius was aware of the new slave girl. His father had recently bought her to assist Theodora, but the girl was good at her job and provided for the family. He was aware that many of his friends and their families treated their slaves poorly, working them too hard and not providing for them. Octavius himself was proud of himself and his family for being different. He knew each slave’s name and tried to be kind.

“Thank you, Flavia. Could you—“

Octavius’ request was silenced when the earth suddenly began to tremble. They looked up suddenly and watched as the sky turned dark. There were black clouds looming overhead, raining white ash down upon them.

There was suddenly panic in the streets as the earth began to tremble. People were screaming and running. Octavius grabbed Theodora’s hand and held on tight, trying to navigate back to their home through the crowds.

“Where is Flavia?” Theodora asked, as they ran through the door.

She was nowhere to be seen.

“Stay here,” he said. “Do not leave. Cover your mouth with cloth, so you don’t suffocate.”

Then, he left. He could hear his sister calling out to him, but he did not turn around. He retraced his steps through the forum, weaving through the crowds. He found the young slave girl on the floor, pulled close to the wall.

“I’m sorry, sir,” she cried as he ran up to her. “I’m sorry. The people trampled me, and I hurt my leg. I cannot walk. Please leave me here and get out of the city.”

The ground was almost constantly trembling now. The ash was falling thicker, and the air was hot and heavy in their lungs.

He ripped a strip of cloth off of his robe and directed the girl to cover her mouth and nose. He lifted her off the floor and carried her with ease.

“Please leave me,” she begged as the panicked crowds slowed their progress. “Please save your sister and leave the city.”

“We are in the heart of Pompeii. With the crowds, it would be impossible to leave now. We will have to wait it for it to be safe again.”

But it would not be safe again. They both knew it. He held her close and trekked onward.

As he pushed through the crowd, she whispered, “You shouldn’t have come back for me. You could have escaped.”

“There was no choice to make,” he said without hesitation.

They arrived back at their home, where Theodora was in a panic. “Oh, thank goodness you made it back.”

“The streets are chaos. We cannot leave the city,” Octavius said.

The shaking was growing stronger. The air was full of more ash than oxygen. The building the hid in began to shake. The walls began to crack and sag.

He held close to the young slave girl, not letting go. “When the tremors have stopped, we will help protect the city. We will help it rebuild.”

She smiled sadly at him. “Yes, sir.”

When the ceiling collapsed in, he dropped to the floor, shielding the two women with his body. His last thought before the weight crushed them all was that, at least, they did not have to feel the burn of the lava on their skin.

 

2\. 16th Century England

Maid Marian was a noblewoman like none other. Her mother had taught her how to read. She had learned to fight from watching the knights. She did not agree with her betrothal to Sir Wilson.

So rather than accept her fate, as other ladies would have done, she fled into the unforgiving forest. Despite her education, she was ill prepared to face the unknown darkness, so it was perhaps a relief when she was accosted by bandits.

“I assume you are here for me because I look like nobility,” she said to the man pointing an arrow at her. “You must be Robin Hood.” She presented the satchel she had brought with her. “This is all of the silver that I could carry from my family’s home. I wish to exchange it with you for sanctuary.”

Robin Hood scrutinized her. “What will stop me from taking your silver without your permission?”

She stared back defiantly. “Honor.”

With a smirk, he lowered his bow. He gestured for her to follow him, and she did so without hesitation.

He introduced her to his Merry Men, who were in fact half female. There was Little John, a tall, dark-skinned man who smiled gently at her, Roy Scarlett, a hot-tempered young swordsman, Sara a Bland, the only one to best Robin in a fight, and Laurel Stutely, who spied on the Sheriff for fun.

Sara taught her how to fight skillfully and use her small size to her advantage. Little John acted as her older brother, protecting her at night. Roy became like younger brother who she could joke around with, and Laurel was a confidant who she could talk to about running away from home.

Robin Hood himself was an enigma. He was charming and sweet, providing food for her and bringing home wildflowers for her. He kept her at arm’s length, not allowing her to fight, even after Sara pronounced her prepared.

“I’m ready,” she argued for the thousandth time.

“No, you are not,” he insisted.

“If you don’t let me go with you on your next raid, I will go on my own.”

“I will not allow it.”

“You cannot stop me. I left the safety of my home because I would not be forced to do something I did not wish to. I will not be kept here for the same reasons.”

“What are you saying?”

“If you try to force me to remain here, I will leave. Permanently.”

He looked defeated by her words. She counted it as a victory.

“I do not want you to leave—”

“Then let me fight.”

“But I want to protect you.”

“I can protect myself.”

“If something happened to you, I would never forgive myself.”

Marian sighed. “Sara and Laurel fight every day, and you do not stop them. Why am I different?”

He kissed her. Tucking one hand behind her head and the other around her waist, he grabbed onto the rough fabric of her dress and pulled her close. She kissed him back, surprised but pleased.

When they broke apart, she smiled. “But I still want to fight.”

So he let her fight. He knew it was useless to try to deny her anything because with just the slightest smile and the quirk of her eyebrow, he would cave.

And several months later, she became pregnant with his child. The Merry Men were joyous at the news. Robin’s friend Friar Tuck oversaw Marian and Robin’s small wedding ceremony. Little John made a pram for the baby. Laurel and Sara found a woman, a Miss Bertinelli, to deliver the baby and teach them to become midwives. Roy robbed several noblemen and gathered enough money to ensure the most comfort for Marian’s delivery.

“Right now, you are the one in need,” he had said.

None of them were prepared for what would happen in nine months’ time.

Robin sat outside the birthing room with Little John and Roy. He could hear Marian’s screams inside the room. And then suddenly, there was silence. He exchanged looks with his friends, his brothers in arms. He felt fear. He should at least hear a baby crying, shouldn’t he?

But there was only silence.

And then, a different kind of scream. One of terror, rather then pain.

Throwing caution to the wind, the men burst into the room. Laurel was unconscious in a corner. Sara was sobbing over Marian.

Robin staggered forward, feeling his strength leave him. His beautiful wife was dead, with a grievous wound to the stomach.

“The midwife stabbed her and took out the baby,” Sara said with a sob. “She attacked us. I couldn’t stop her.”

He allowed himself until they had buried her to grieve. Then, he rid himself of the sadness, and let the anger consume him.

It only took him a few weeks to hunt down the woman.

“Helena Bertinelli,” he growled, “you have failed your duties. Now, you must pay.”

She did not plead for her life. She looked at him through her dark lashes and smiled. She told him she had been sent by Sir Wilson, Maid Marian’s betrothed.

He staggered back at the news, and she took advantage of his weakness, driving a dagger through her side.

He fell, and she fled. Little John was at his side immediately, sword drawn to attack the woman.

“Stop,” Robin protested weakly. “My Marian would not want you to kill her. She would not want you to compromise your morals for her.”

“Even to avenge you both?”

He smiled. “It is better this way. We will be together again.”

There was no darkness when he died. There was only a new life waiting.

 

3\. June 1832, France

Olivier came from a working family and saw how his mother had struggled to feed him and his sister. He helped how he could, but as the gap between the wealthy and the working grew, his mother worked longer hours yet there was less food on the table. And when cholera took her away from them, Olivier found another family to care for his sister while he worked at the factory.

But then General Lamarque died, the champion for the working class. The whispered rumors of a revolution burst into rumbles and shouts. Olivier found himself in the streets with the students and citizens as they mourned the man who was a friend to the poor and downtrodden.

From the corner of his eye, he could see a woman, a beautiful elegant noblewoman watching from the safety of the tall building up ahead. He felt a surge of rage that someone could stand idly by while other people suffered. And then, there was a barrage of gunshots, and other thoughts were gone as they rushed to the barricades.

Félicie watched the crowds from the window above. She felt for the people who suffered. She was fortunate enough to have a family who could provide. She was free to attend social gatherings and parties and not have to work. She ate as well as she pleased and wanted for nothing but watching the procession for General Lamarque she wished for more.

When the fighting broke out, she tried to fight.

“Please, let me help,” she begged. But her governess would not leave her side and had called servants to physically hold her back.

“It is untoward for a lady to join in such altercations,” her governess said. “It is a childish protest and will be quashed quickly.”

But when night fell, all was quiet, the calm before the storm.

Félicie dressed in servant’s clothes and snuck out with food and water to take to the closest barricade, where a young man stopped her.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said sharply.

“I brought food to sustain you through the night. My name is Félicie. I wish to help.”

The young man introduced himself as Olivier. “I saw you before during the march. You are a noblewoman. You should stay safe in your own home.”

“I want to fight. You were calling for people to help the revolution. I want to do that.”

He looked at her in confusion. “Why? You have everything you need.”

“But others don’t. That is why I wish to help.”

“You are remarkable,” he said with a tone of awe.

“Thank you for remarking.”

When the fighting began, she was unprepared for what she witnessed. People were dying around her. So much bloodshed.

“Quickly, this way,” Olivier said.

He led her out a narrow side passage and hid her away in an with whispered warnings to stay until long after the sounds of battle died.

“If I do not come for you,” he said, “run away. Don’t look back. Don’t look for me.”

He did not come for her. Hours passed after the sound of gunfire died away. She hid away, arms wrapped around her legs and her head resting on her knees.

When she finally emerged from the small crawl space, she knew the worst had happened. She could hear the sound of soldiers marching in the distance, but there was no sound at the barricade.

Her instinct told her to run, to obey the young man’s warnings, but she didn’t listen. Instead, she approached the barricade. She saw the bodies. She saw the blood. And then she saw Olivier. His body was strewn against the barricade, his eyes unseeing.

She felt rage fill her. It was a feeling unfamiliar to her pampered and protected emotions. She felt the sting of injustice, that people so young were callously shot down and left for dead only for wanting enough food to feed their families and a wage to survive in a stable home.

She did not return home after the battle. Her family grieved for her, thinking she had died in the uprising. What they did not know was that she lived on, teaching herself to use a sword, finding rogues on the street to help her ambush wealthy noblemen and noblewomen leaving the city, pillaging their wealth and giving it to starving families and students.

When the revolution began anew sixteen years later, Félicie was ill and weak, but she provided what food and water she could to those fighting the battles and when she passed, those who fought by her side mourned her.

 

4\. 1945, Okinawa, Japan

The Battle of Okinawa was the bloodiest Oliver had ever seen. The Japanese soldiers were tenacious, choosing to die rather than be taken prisoner. 

“The officers are forcing citizens to commit suicide,” Oliver’s commanding officer John said, his voice filled with horror. “They’re saying that American’s will rape and torture them if they’re captured.”

Oliver saw a figure flee into the forest. He quickly took chase and found a young Japanese woman, hardly in her twenties, hiding behind a tree.

She was crying, her long black hair covering her face, and clutching something in her hands. When she saw him approach, she began to scream in Japanese. He couldn’t understand what she was saying, but he approached slowly.

“It’s okay,” he said. “You are safe.”

She continued to babble in Japanese, holding the item in her hand outwards like a shield. It was a grenade. She pulled the pin, and he reacted on instinct.

He could feel her body tense and shake against him as he tackled her, wresting the explosive from her hands and rolling away, covering it with his body. He stayed frozen over it for a minute, waiting.

Her hand gently touched his shoulder. She had tears in her eyes.

Rolling off the dud, he took her hand. “Safe,” he said quietly. “You are safe.”

“Arigatou.”

She may not have understood what he was, but his actions filled in the blanks. He knew that he should take her back to base and ensure that she was taken to a safe civilian camp. But he was curious about her. He had to know why she had been fleeing alone. He also didn’t fully trust his brigade. Some of them were cruel and vindictive, the kind of people that fought because they enjoyed the fighting and went “jap hunting” through the forests.

He couldn’t trust them. But he did know whom he could trust.

In silence, they searched and found a cave that was hidden away by underbrush.

“Stay,” he said. She nodded.

Careful to hide his trail, he made mental notes of his surroundings so he could find his way back. He was deep in the forest, a good half an hour trek from base, but he walked quickly and, once on base, located his friend, Tommy.

A friend since they first met while enlisting, Tommy was trustworthy, loyal and even spoke a little bit of Japanese.

“Come with me,” Oliver said.

“Where?”

“Trust me, okay?”

Tommy followed, but added, “Last time you said that, we ended up at a strip club in Vegas and almost missed our train to boot camp.”

Oliver smiled at the memory. “This is a little bit different.”

He led the way to the cave. Tommy had the good sense not to question him until they were inside.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he asked, looking at the young girl sleeping in the corner.

“She was going to kill herself with a grenade. She was lucky it was a dud.”

“But why is she hiding in a cave, and why do you know her?”

“I found her, and I hid her.”

“Again, why?”

Oliver shrugged. “I just want to make sure she’s safe, and guys like Wilson don’t hurt her.”

Tommy shook his head in disbelief, but gently shook the young girl awake.

He asked her a question in Japanese.

“Miyagi Sachiko desu,” she said.

“Her name is Sachiko,” Tommy told Oliver.

“Ask her why she was in the forest and if there is anywhere she can go to stay safe.”

Tommy rolled his eyes in response. “The only Japanese I know is from two years in college.”

“Do what you can.”

He asked her in halting Japanese, and she said something back.

“Her parents were killed when the fighting started. She has a sister named Shado in mainland Japan.”

“Tell her we can get her to her sister.”

Tommy turned to Sachiko. “Watashitachi—wait, no, we can’t.”

“We can try.”

Tommy sighed and continued talking to Sachiko in Japanese.

“After the fighting has ended, we can find someone to take her someplace safe.”

Tommy looked at him with raised eyebrows, a doubtful look that he had received many times since their friendship began. But he helped. The battle continued on for several weeks. They kept Sachiko hidden in the cave, where they brought her food, blankets and other necessities to survive. Tommy taught Oliver to speak broken Japanese, and Oliver taught Sachiko English.

He would sneak out under the cover of night to spend time with her.

Oliver held her small hands in his. “The battle is almost over here. I’m sorry for everything it has cost you, but when it is over we can get you to your sister.”

“Do you have family?”

She spoke English with a strong Japanese accent, blending the “l” and “r” sounds together, exaggerating vowels. The men in his brigade used to make fun of the accent, but he thought that the English language had never sounded more beautiful than it did on her tongue. He loved the way that she would sometimes ramble in Japanese. Even though he didn’t understand what she was saying, he could hear the passion in her voice and pick up words occasionally.

“I’m an only child, but I have dear friends who are like sisters to me.”

She smiled. “Why are you soldier?”

Oliver let out a sigh. “The draft. I dropped out of college because I was stupid and spoiled. And then the government found out and drafted me.”

“You are brave.”

“I’m stupid.”

She squeezed his hand. He looked at her fondly. Though she was ragged from weeks of isolation, she was beautiful.

He gently reached up to her face with his grimy fingers and pushed her hair from her face. He brushed his lips across hers.

She averted her gaze, blushing. It was a beautiful sight.

He returned to base that night, but there were others waiting for him.

“Hey, Queen,” the man, Malcolm, said. “Commander noticed some of our supplies have gone missing. And Wilson noticed you and Merlyn go missing a few nights. Been playing traitor on us? Or do you have a pretty Jap girl out there that you’re keeping for yourself? What do you say boys, should we go out and get a piece of her ourselves?”

Oliver reacted on instinct. He punched the man in front of him. The others retaliated. A set of hands wrenched him to the ground, and several others moved in to kick and beat him. There was a scuffle up above, and suddenly, Tommy was reaching down, pulling him up and dragging him outside.

“Come on, man.”

They could hear the thundering sound of footsteps in pursuit as they crashed through the forest.

“Let’s split up,” Oliver said. “We have to lose them, so I can get Sachiko out of here.”

Tommy nodded. “Good luck.”

They ran in separate directions. Oliver quietly created a loop around the area, listening for people following.

When he was sure there was nobody, he made his way to the cave.

Sachiko was surprised to see him. “Okaerinasai,” she said warmly, a familiar welcome that she had taught him.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped. “They’re trying to find you. It’s my fault, but I have to get you out of here. I can’t let them find you.”

“Hai.” She agreed quickly, her eyes wide with trust. He grabbed her hand and pulled her quickly through the forest.

“I know someone who can provide you safe passage to Hiroshima. He can help you find your sister.”

They made their way quickly toward the beach, a secluded area that was not yet war-torn.

His friend, John, emerged from the cabin of his boat. “What are you doing here already? We agreed after the fighting had subsided.”

“Emergency. Can you leave early?”

“It will be more dangerous.”

Oliver looked at Sachiko. He thought of the war being waged all around and the desolation he had taken part in. He didn’t want her here, where she was an easy target. “No more dangerous than it is here.”

John nodded in understanding.

“Will you come with me?” she asked him suddenly.

He shook his head sadly. “Tommy saved me, so we could save you. I have to make sure he is okay.”

“Thank you, Oliver. I will write you when I find Shado.”

“Stay safe, okay?”

Sachiko smiled. "I will come back to you."

"Promise me?" he asked, knowing that such a promise was futile in a war like this.

“Aishiteru.”

He didn’t know what those words meant exactly, but he felt the warmth in her words. He smiled and kissed her gently. “I will see you when the war is over.”

When Oliver returned to base, he wove a story to his commanding officer that the men had accused him of stories without proof, had ganged up on him and attacked him, and he had fled fearing for his own safety. Tommy had backed him up, and without proof, his accusers had nothing to go on.

When the Battle of Okinawa was declared a win for the Allies almost a week later, Oliver stayed on base to help establish peace and clean up the war-torn island.

A month later, he received a letter.

_5 August, 1945_

_Oliver,_

_I have arrived at my sister’s home in Hiroshima. She found me a job at Shima Hospital. I work on my English every day. Thank you for keeping me safe. I hope to see you after the war is over. My sister wishes to meet you as well._

_Stay safe._

_-Sachiko_

He grasped the paper between his hands, feeling hope for the first time since he had left her with John.

The next day, everything changed.

Tommy came in while Oliver was getting out of the shower. Oliver’s smile at his friend faltered at the pale look on his face.

“A telegram just came in,” Tommy said. His voice shook violently. “There was a bomb. They dropped an atomic bomb in Hiroshima this morning.”

Oliver felt his stomach drop out from under him.

“Ground zero was reportedly Shima Hospital.”

He dropped down onto the ground, covering his face with his hands. He felt Tommy rest a hand on his shoulder before leaving him alone.

Oliver could scarcely allow himself to hope that she had survived. He mourned for her, for all she had suffered just to meet her premature end. He mourned that he was on the side of the war that could cut down an innocent life such as hers.

He hated this war. He hated that he had participated in the bloodshed. Her blood was on his hands.

After the war came to an end, he returned home with Tommy. They moved to Gotham and lived out a quiet life. He married a young woman named Laurel and died of old age with his friends and family by his side. But he never forgot his girl Sachiko and her promise.

 

5\. 2020, Starling City

Felicity woke up with a gasp. She felt a sharp pain in her stomach. She could hear voices, but they sounded distant and muted.

Then, suddenly, they were blaring in her ear, loud and rumbling.

“Oh, god, Felicity.” Oliver was frightened, a tone that she didn't like to hear from him.

She was lying on the table in the foundry. She opened her eyes and saw Sara and Oliver hovering over her.

“Whoa there,” she gasped, her voice weaker than she was expecting it to be. “Whatever happened to personal space?”

“You got shot, Felicity,” Sara said. She didn’t sound all that calm either.

“Damnit, not again.”

“You lost a lot of blood. How are you feeling?” Oliver asked.

“Like I got shot.”

“You gotta stop doing that,” Sara said. "You're going to start giving me premature grey hairs."

“Noted. Not that _your_ career would _ever_ induce grey hairs in anyone. You didn’t happen to see who shot me did you?”

“Some punk kid tried to steal your purse. Roy hunted him down for us.”

“Think I can find him and have an epic love story with him like Thea did?”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” Oliver said.

“Damn.”

“I’m just glad you’re safe,” Sara said, squeezing her hand. “I like you best alive and babbling, okay, Mrs. Queen?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Felicity tried to salute but winced at the movement. Sara left with a smile and a promise to visit soon.

Oliver rested his forehead against their intertwined hands. “I could have lost you. If that bullet hit an inch to the left, it would have killed you. There would have been nothing I could have done to save you.”

“You can’t save everyone, Oliver.”

“I don’t care about everyone. I care about you.”

She smiled at him. “Come here so I can kiss you.”

He obliged, pressing his lips to hers.

“I’ll always be your girl,” she said. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Felicity Queen.”

“Do you think this is the sign,” she asked after a moment of comfortable silence, “that it’s time to hang up your hood?”

Oliver looked at her, and Felicity took it as a good sign that he didn’t immediately shoot down the idea.

“Connor got the ‘You have failed this city, grr’ thing pretty much down, and Roy’s been good at keeping an eye on him.”

“What are we going to do without the Hood?” Oliver asked. “Go to cocktail parties and _not_ break into the back offices?”

“Blasphemy.”

“You got shot. Maybe the city’s not as safe as we thought we were making it.”

“Freak accident.” Felicity waved it off. "I've never felt safer."

“A life as civilians?” Oliver sighed. “I think I can live with that.”

He wrapped his arms around her, and he felt the weight of a thousand lifetimes leave him. The battles of old weighing down on him were lifted. The thought that they could live a life of safety and grow old together was something he wouldn’t have considered just a few years ago.

But with Felicity in his arms, it was more than possible. It was everything he wanted.

_“I thought our story was epic, you know? You and me[…]Spanning years and continents. Lives ruined and blood shed. Epic.”  
-Veronica Mars_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Just a quick note... I apologize to purists of the history mythology that I referenced. I did research into each event but took a lot of creative liberty in certain situations (e.g. Sachiko would be Okinawan and probably wouldn't speak traditional Japanese dialect...I'm Japanese-American so I'm working only with what I know).
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it anyways!


End file.
